


Demons and Angels

by Slice_of_Apple



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Eren Yeager, Angry Jean Kirstein, Cute, Demon Prison from Hell, Enemies to Lovers, Eren Yeager is a Little Shit, Eren is always adorable, Feelings, Fiery Jean Kirstein, Fluff fest, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Jean can't help being hot, Jean loves chocolate, M/M, OOC maybe idk, Only a few sniffly tears, Plenty of feelings though, Romance, Sweet, Sweet Eren, law office from hell, poor Jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slice_of_Apple/pseuds/Slice_of_Apple
Summary: Fresh out of college legal assistant Eren Jaeger hates junior associate Jean Kirstein with a passion.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 11
Kudos: 87





	Demons and Angels

Twelve interviews where Eren poured his heart out, waxing rhapsodic about the role of justice as one of the cornerstones of a free society, and how he’s going to apply to law school in the fall so that he can save the world, one destitute defendant at a time, how he wants to work as a legal assistant in order to gain valuable experience. Twelve flat rejections, each without a second interview. On the thirteenth, he can’t muster the energy to pretend, not when faced with the bleak atmosphere, the cubicles all crammed together, the towering piles of paper on each desk.

When the short man with the eyes like grey marbles asks him why he wants the job, he says, “To be honest, sir, I don't. Anyone can see that this is a grim place to work. But I need something that will cover my rent until I figure out my next step. You’re offering a decent salary and health insurance. I’m smart and a hard worker, and you’ll get your money’s worth out of me.”

  
The man’s eyes glitter at this response. Eren thinks he hears him say, “Not bad.”

To Eren’s surprise, he gets the job.

At first, he enjoys the work. He likes the challenge of learning how to prepare simple legal documents, how to file reports properly. He doesn’t even mind the dress code, at least not too much. And he really appreciates the regular income.

It’s only later, when the tasks become rote, when the pressure rises, when the faulty machinery gets to him, and, mostly, when he figures out that the lawyers basically rotate around the various corporate clients, milking them for every last dollar, that he becomes thoroughly disgusted with the whole firm. The whole law gig, in fact.

He’s nine months into the job. It’s a rainy Tuesday morning and the day has already been shit. The fax machine isn’t working, and the photocopier jammed seven times before Eren could make the copies that were needed STAT. You’d think a well-heeled law office like this one would spring for a decent copy machine, but the one they have seems to have been specially designed to torture its users. On top of everything else, his computer crashed just as he was finalizing all the edits on the memo he needs to get out ASAP. And it’s not even 9:30 yet.

Eren hurries into the kitchen to grab some coffee. Even though it tastes like dishwater, it’s better than nothing, and he needs to get away from his cubicle and his blasted computer for two minutes. He also wants to drop off the chocolates. He brought them in one week from the specialty chocolate shop near where he lives, and they disappeared in about five minutes. He’s kept bringing a new box every few weeks. He likes to think of it as his contribution to good karma in the world; good karma is sorely needed in this ghastly place.

Shit. Fucking Jean Kirstein is there. Eren had initially thought that fresh-faced Jean was also a legal assistant, which is probably what got them off on the wrong foot in the first place. Jean didn’t appreciate being lumped in with the lowest of the low; clearly, it’s bad enough for him that he’s only a junior associate. Jean wears perfectly pressed suits, and he has a way of looking down at Eren over his long, straight nose that never fails to rub Eren the wrong way. He behaves exactly like all the other posers Eren knew from college who acted arrogant and superior, like they were the cream of the crop, and no one else was worth shit. His one piece of luck at this office so far has been that he’s hardly had to work with Jean at all.

Eren’s frustration with the photocopy machine, with his morning, with the whole crap job, boils over in a hot mass of anger, which he focuses with laser-like precision on the available, despised figure of Jean Kirstein.

He stomps into the kitchen, making as much noise as possible. He is pleased to see a pained expression cross Jean’s face.

“Could you be a little quieter, Jaeger? Some of us are trying to work.” Jean is making notes on some papers.

Eren's eyes narrow. He grins a feral grin. A few weeks ago, Eren caught Jean sketching on the side of one of his briefs during a meeting, and he's happy to put that observation to good use right now.

“Right. Work. You’re working on… your drawings, perhaps?”

“Shut up!” says Jean. “That’s none of your fucking business.” He’s right up in Eren’s face, too. Eren is a bit surprised at the intensity of the response. Clearly, drawing means something to Jean.

Eren backs away thoughtfully. He needs to think about how best to exploit this evident weakness. He’ll also have to try to get more information about it. 

Eren throws the chocolates on the counter. To his surprise, Jean makes a beeline for them. He hums a happy little noise as he opens up the box. “You’re the one who’s been bringing these in?” he asks in disbelief.

Eren can’t believe that it’s Jean who’s been eating them. He’s been bringing joy to _Jean Kirstein,_ of all people.

“You better not scarf them all up, you pig.”

Jean ignores him. “Oooh, there are two of those teardrop hazelnutty ones,” he says delightedly. There is a card tucked into the box with the shop’s name and address, and Jean picks it up, reads it, and stuffs it into his pocket. He walks out chewing, an expression of heavenly satisfaction on his face.

Less than a week later, Eren gets the chance to snoop around in Jean’s office. One of the other associates asks him to drop something off with Jean, and, by a stroke of good fortune, Jean happens to be out at the time. The drawings are not difficult to find. Eren doesn’t know what Jean was thinking, hiding something that important right under his desk. Jean would make a terrible spy. Eren wonders idly if Jean grew up with any siblings. Probably not. No one with a brother or sister would have hidden something important in plain sight like that.

It’s a 12” x 18” sketchbook and almost full. Eren carefully thumbs through the drawings. He’s surprised; they’re actually pretty good. Perhaps really good. Very dramatic, anyway. Lots of weird war scenes. Some of them are over the top, people with wings and stuff.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Eren’s eyes fly up from the page he’s looking at: a tremendous battle scene, full of carnage, winged beings on the one side fighting an array of flaming earthbound creatures. 

“These are really good,” he says casually, as though he’s not just been caught openly rifling through Jean’s personal belongings.

“Those are none of your fucking business,” growls an angry Jean.

“I especially like the way you’ve drawn the wings- they’re very realistic,” Eren continues conversationally. As he both expects and hopes, this comment only enrages Jean further.

“Give me that!” Jean demands.

Eren holds the sketchbook just out Jean’s reach and flips to another page.

“I think I like this one more, though.” It’s a scene of a building on fire. The flames are leaping about, and they almost look as though they are alive. “You really capture the movement of the fire.”

Eren knows he’s being an ass, but he can’t seem to stop himself. Jean Kirstein represents everything he hates about this job, maybe even about life, and it's enormously satisfying to see him squirm.

“Goddammit, give that to me.” Jean is pressing in on Eren, but physical strength has never intimidated Eren. In addition, Jean plainly doesn’t want any harm to come to the drawings, so Eren has the advantage.

Eren frowns, as if he is thinking hard. “But maybe the battle scenes are better, after all. More action.”

Eren is aware when something shifts in Jean. The air changes, shimmers around him.

“Do you know what happens to children who play with fire?” asks Jean, in a dangerous voice. A thin flame shoots out from Jean’s index finger. It stops within an inch of Eren. “They get burned.”

Eren’s jaw drops. “What the hell?” he says. “How did you do that?” It’s quite a remarkable effect. It looks like there is real fire coming out of Jean’s finger. Is Jean a closet magician as well? Does he have a blowtorch and hairspray hidden somewhere?

Jean’s hair is alight now, too. In fact his whole body is outlined in flames. They’re unusual flames, though, because nothing in Jean’s vicinity is burning. It’s as if they are show flames.

This makes Eren angry all over again. Isn’t that just like phony Jean Kirstein, using pretend magician-ish flames in an attempt to intimidate Eren? Without thinking too much about the situation, about himself being in the wrong, caught red-handed pawing through Jean’s private things, Eren succumbs to righteous anger at Fake Jean Kirstein.

He cries out, “You’re such a fucking poser! You can’t even make real flames.”

Jean gives a roar of rage and jumps on Eren. Eren finds that even though the flames aren’t as hot as a real fire, they still prickle uncomfortably. Jean is really strong, too. Eren has his work cut out protecting himself from the raging maniac that Jean has become. He drops the sketchbook on the floor, curling up around it and putting his hands over his head. Jean is so occupied with trying to get the sketchbook back safely that he doesn’t immediately beat Eren to a pulp. 

Afterwards, Eren realizes that the only thing that prevented him from being pulverized was the sudden appearance of senior partner Levi Ackerman. A voice cracks like a whip into the room.

“What the hell is going on in here, shitty brats?” Mr. Ackerman is as small as ever, but he’s like a black hole in the doorway: a black hole with fiery pits for eyes.

There’s something in his voice that has a paralytic effect- literally. Eren is frozen in place, hunched over the floor, his arms wrapped protectively around his head. He feels ridiculous.

“To my office. Both of you! Now!” The paralysis loosens, and Eren falls forward against Jean’s knees

“Get the fuck off me!” snarls Jean, pushing him off and snatching up the sketchbook.  


They are waiting in the antechamber to Mr. Ackerman’s office. It reminds Eren strongly of waiting outside the principal’s office in elementary school. Mr. Ackerman’s secretary looks exactly like the elementary school front office secretary, too; iron-gray hair, a smile that bares all her teeth.

“What was that magic trick you did? With the flames?” asks Eren quietly. Now that the heat has worn off, he’s more curious than ever about the stunt Jean pulled. 

Jean stares furiously ahead, refusing to answer.

“Unless it wasn’t a magic trick. Maybe you’re a supernatural creature? A demon, perhaps?” Eren keeps prodding. He is just wondering why on earth he feels compelled to continue to bait Jean, even though that is what has just led him to being brought before scary-as-shit Levi Ackerman, when he realizes that his random words have in fact hit home. Jean turns pale, his eyes darting to Eren in fear. Eren’s eyes widen in response.

“What?!!!? You’re a _demon_? A _real honest-to-God demon_?”

Jean, knowing the jig is up, nods slightly.

“Why am I not surprised?” Eren murmurs to himself. He finds himself strangely willing to take Jean’s nod at face value. There isn’t really another logical explanation for what just happened. Those were definitely flames. Eren has always been rather ready to believe the unbelievable, anyway.

“Does that mean that this whole office is a… a nest of demons?”

Jean nods again. That explains quite a bit, Eren thinks; particularly why everyone here is so cold and mercenary. _Do demons even have hearts_? he wonders.

“For real?” asks Eren.

“Yes, we’re demons. This is a fucking demon prison, you ignorant ass,” says Jean, with barely controlled fury.

“A prison? You mean, this is how demons pay for their crimes? Working as human lawyers?” Eren can’t help laughing- it’s too perfect.

“Yes, you imbecile!” hisses Jean. “I was almost done, too. Now my sentence is sure to be lengthened. I _hate_ this blasted place.”

“But you can't be in prison. You go home every night.”

Jean blows out a puff of air in annoyance. “The prison constitutes the whole city, you dolt, but I’m required to spend 83% of my sentence specifically at work or in my apartment.”

Eren ignores the insults, far too interested in the information Jean is doling out to get riled up. “How much time have you done so far?”

“Two decades, give or take a few months.”

Eren draws in a surprised breath. He is grudgingly impressed that Jean still has a semblance of humanity after twenty years in this hell hole. He is also shocked that Jean is so old. He had thought that Jean was only a little bit older than him, 26 or 27 at the most, newly out of law school. Jean notices his puzzled expression.

“Yes, I’m a demon, and, yes, we age differently than humans.”

“Why are you still only a junior associate?” he asks. He’s going to keep asking questions until Jean stops answering.

“It’s a condition of my sentence,” Jean answers sullenly.

“What did you _do_?” Eren is very interested as to what constitutes a deed worthy of prison for a demon.

"You mean, to get put in jail?" Jean looks embarrassed. His cheeks are tinted faintly pink as he mumbles, “I… consorted with angels.”

At that point they have to stop talking, as the secretary motions them in.

The meeting goes much as Jean had predicted.

“Mr. Kirstein, you cannot simply… let go like that. No matter how provoking a particular human may be.” Eren has the grace to blush. “We have added another six months to your sentence; your final day will now be December 20th of this year.”

Jean doesn’t argue. He probably knows it’s useless. His lips tighten into a thin line.

“Mr. Jaeger, please come here."

Eren shuffles forward reluctantly.

Mr. Ackerman lays his hands on Eren’s shoulders and looks straight into his eyes. Eren feels a sharp pinch, and something buzzes in the back of his throat.

“Very well,” says Mr. Ackerman. “From here on in, Mr. Jaeger, you will report directly to Mr. Kirstein. You may leave.”

“Bastard!” mutters Jean. “He does everything he can to make things worse for me.”

  
Eren isn’t too happy, either; working with _Jean Kirstein_ , for fuck’s sake. Although he supposes he’s getting off lightly, if this really is a nest of demons. He’s still alive, after all. And _he_ isn’t jailed. He’ll start up his job search in earnest now.

It’s Sunday morning. They are on their way to the chocolate shop. Eren tries to tell Armin and Mikasa about his employers.

“I’ve been assigned to a new boss,” he says. “He’s really a-“ he tries to say “demon,” but the word that comes out of his mouth is “dick.” In fact, every time he tries to say “demon,” or “supernatural being,” or something similar, he says something else instead. Whatever Ackerman did, it has ensured Eren’s silence with regard to the existence of demons. He wonders why Ackerman didn’t just make him forget. Maybe he feels it will torture Eren to not be able to communicate what he knows. If so, he’s right. Eren complains all about Jean’s horrible qualities to Armin and Mikasa, but, infuriatingly, he can’t mention the “demon” aspect.

As they’re walking into the chocolate shop, who should be coming out but Jean? In a suit and tie, of course.

“Kirstein!” Eren says, shocked into a greeting.

“Hey, Jaeger. They let you out of your cage for the day?” Eren’s jaw drops at Jean’s nerve. _Jean_ is the one in jail, not Eren!

“See?” he murmurs to Armin and Mikasa. But Armin, the traitor, is chuckling and saying “We take him out every now and then. If he’s good.”

Armin and Mikasa look pointedly at Eren. He blushes, says, “Oh, sorry. Armin, Mikasa, this is Mr. Kirstein, my… uh… new boss.”

“Jean,” says Jean, holding out a hand to shake each of theirs.

“Why don’t you join us?” asks Armin. Too late, Eren shoots daggers at him.

“I was heading back to work, but… why not?” Jean accepts with a charming smile. They end up at one of the little tables inside the shop.

Once they’re all settled around the table with their various sugary treats, Jean says, “I’m a sucker for anything chocolate. And after you brought those unbelievable chocolates to the office, I had to get some myself.”

Eren doesn’t understand. Jean is acting the affable, pleasant host. He skillfully coaxes Armin into talking about his oceanographic studies, and Mikasa about her martial arts work. Eren sits silently the whole time, glowering into his chocolate croissant. 

When Jean gets up to order more chocolates to go, Armin pokes Eren in the chest.

“ _That’s_ your new boss? The way you were talking about him, I thought he was a demon from hell. But he seems like a nice guy. He’s cute, too.”

_Cute?_ Eren opens his mouth to argue vociferously with this ridiculous statement, then glances up at Jean from under his hair. Jean looks different away from the office. Softer. Maybe he does have a somewhat attractive face. His eyes aren’t half bad, either. His sleeves are rolled up, and the fine hairs on his forearms are golden in the shop lights. But what an asshole!

“I think he might like you,” whispers Armin.

“What??! No way. He _despises_ me.”

“He keeps looking at you. And blushing.”

“He likes you,” confirms Mikasa.

Eren thinks this is crazy. Although he has to admit that Armin and Mikasa are usually far more perceptive than he is about those kinds of things.

Jean picks up the tab. The projected image of a benevolent, friendly boss is now complete.

Eren walks home slowly, thoughts tumbling around in his head. They brew overnight while he’s asleep. When he wakes up in the morning, he has hatched a plan. If Jean thinks he can get away scot-free with hoodwinking Eren’s friends by charming the socks of them, he’s got another thing coming. Two can play at that game. Eren is going to make that smug prick fall for him, hook, line and sinker, then leave his pretentious nose in the dust as Eren walks away.

He starts the following Monday.

“What should I do today, Mr. Kirstein?” he asks politely as he reports early on Monday morning.

Jean gives him a strange look. “You’re welcome to … uh… call me Jean,” he says. That is most definitely a blush. Maybe Armin and Mikasa _are_ right, after all.

He does everything Jean asks for with perfect efficiency, double- and-triple- checking every last detail so that there are no errors.

Over the next few weeks, Eren is surprised to learn that Jean is really good at what he does. In contrast to some of the other attorneys in the office that Eren has worked with, Jean’s briefs are succinct (as succinct as lawyers writing in legalese gobbledybook can be), cogent, and even interesting. His arguments are sharp and incisive. Even though Eren knows that Jean hates his job, Jean clearly still works incredibly hard to do the best he can. Eren respects this. It makes him want to do his best as well. He actually thinks he’s learning quite a bit.

  


On the other hand, he does not make much progress in seducing Jean. Maybe Armin and Mikasa were wrong? _Probably_ , he thinks, but he’s is not ready to give up yet. He redoubles his efforts, pulling out all the stops. He leaves the top button of his shirt undone. He keeps his sleeves rolled up. When he’s dropping off papers with Jean, he tries to stand in such a way that he will have to stretch across the desk when placing them on it. He wears a tiny diamond stud in his left ear and makes sure to tuck his hair back whenever he is alone with Jean.

He notices December 20th marked off on Jean’s year-long calendar with a big star around it and an exclamation mark. December 20th? Ah, right. The new end date of Jean’s sentence.

“So, how are you going to celebrate getting out of jail?” Eren asks one day, nodding at the calendar. “Partying with friends?”

“I don’t have time for friends,” says Jean immediately. As soon as the words are out, Jean looks up, startled, as though he would have rather kept that bit of information to himself.

Eren is about to follow up with a quip about how of course a jerk like Jean doesn’t have friends, but then he remembers that he’s playing the long game. Plus, no friends? Stuck in this wretched pit 80-plus hours a week? What a shitty life.

Jean must see something of what Eren is thinking on his face, because he scowls his blackest scowl, and says, “I _am_ in prison, you know. It’s not supposed to be fun.”

It’s seven o’clock on a Friday night. Jean is leaving, but he’s carrying a tall stack of boxes. He can’t see over the top of them.

“Do you need any help?” asks Eren.

“Nah,” says Jean.

“I don’t mind,” says Eren. “You can’t even see where you’re going.”

“I’m fine, Jaeger,” grumbles Jean.

At that very moment, he almost trips on a fire hydrant. The top two boxes slide to the ground. Luckily, they are very tightly closed, and the lids stay on. 

Eren swiftly bends down and picks them up. This is the opportunity he’s been waiting for.

“Where are you taking them?”

“To my apartment. It’s a few blocks that way.”

“I’ll carry these,” says Eren.

“You don’t need to. They’re not heavy.”

“It’s no problem, OK? Just shut up and let me help you.”

Jean leans against the fire hydrant. “Ok,” he says, sighing. “Thanks.” He looks tired. _Perfect_ , thinks Eren.

“It’s here,” says Jean, turning into a small apartment building. “Third floor. At the top of the stairs.”

“Which apartment?”

“303. You can go up ahead. I have to steady these first.”

“Should I take the key?” asks Eren.

“No need. I don’t lock it.”

Eren’s eyebrows rise.

“There’s nothing to steal in there, and no one can hurt me. It’s just a bother to lock it, frankly.”

Jean is right. His apartment is pretty minimalist. He does have a flat screen TV, but otherwise there’s not too much there. It’s a bit depressing, actually. Not many personal touches. The one messy thing that Eren can see through the open bedroom door is a large desk that seems to be full of what look like art supplies.

Eren places his two boxes against the living room wall.

“Thanks,” says Jean awkwardly. There is a silence. Eren makes no move to leave.

“Do you want a drink or something? I think I have a few beers,” Jean finally says.

“A beer would be nice,” Eren responds nonchalantly. 

Jean’s tie is already off, and he’s busy unbuttoning his shirt.

Following Eren’s gaze, Jean says, “I can’t stand these clothes. I think that’s the worst part of my sentence, having to wear a bloody suit every day. I’ll be right back.” Eren is surprised. He thought Jean was the kind of guy who _liked_ wearing suits.

Jean emerges from his bedroom wearing an old T shirt and ratty jeans. His hair is sticking up in the back where he must have rubbed it. He looks completely different from how he looks at work. He goes into the kitchen and grabs two beers, handing one to Eren as he flops onto the couch. He leans back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He glances over at the stacked boxes with distaste.

Eren wonders how much of Jean’s constant bad temper is due to a combination of exhaustion and tedium. He actually feels sorry for him. He has a sudden idea. “I know what you need. A massage!”

“What? No, I don’t!” says Jean. He starts back from Eren. Jean hasn’t learned yet that obstacles only increase Eren’s determination exponentially. 

“Yes. Yes, you do,” says Eren firmly. “I guarantee that you’ll feel better after it. I am the _master_ of massages. My sister – Mikasa, you met her at the chocolate shop - worked as a masseuse through college.” He says this with enough confidence to hope that Jean doesn’t notice that this doesn’t really promise anything about _Eren’s_ skill level.

He pushes Jean onto his stomach. To his surprise, Jean doesn’t put up much of a fight. He must be truly worn out.

“Do you have any oil?” he asks. “It’s much better with oil.”

“Maybe in the kitchen?” says Jean into the couch cushions. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“Don’t move,” Eren warns. “And no sleeping!” He runs into the kitchen and rummages around a bit. He finds a bottle of olive oil that doesn’t look too old. It'll have to do. He takes off his own button-down shirt so he is just in his undershirt. He doesn’t want his work shirt to get olive oil-y.

“Can you move onto the floor?” he asks, eyeing the narrow couch. Jean slides onto the rug, which luckily seems reasonably soft. Eren grabs a throw pillow from the couch and stuffs it under Jean’s head.

“Is that alright?” he asks. He’s not sure where it’s coming from, but he finds that he has a genuine desire to give tired, overworked Jean a good massage. Maybe the thought of Jean having been in that miserable office for more than twenty years lends him compassion. For whatever reason, he wants Jean to decompress, to shed the stress from his daily grind so that he can sleep the sleep of the dead tonight and wake up refreshed tomorrow.

“Is it okay if I move this up?” he asks, lifting the bottom of Jean’s shirt.

Jean grunts and nods his head.

He rolls Jean’s shirt up as far as it will go and pours some olive oil into his palm. He rubs his hands together until the oil is as warm as he can make it. He starts in on one of Jean’s shoulders. It is all tensed up, and he can feel at least one large knot. 

“You’re super wound up, man,” he says. How does Jean survive, strung as tightly as this? No wonder he’s such a grouch.

By the time he’s worked over the first shoulder, Jean is moaning softly into the pillow. 

Score one for Eren, he thinks. The problem is, Eren is thoroughly enjoying the massage himself. Jean’s back is almost a work of art: long, lean muscles blanketed in pearly, incandescent skin. Jean moaning and grunting as Eren digs into him is doing unexpected things to Eren’s head, not to mention other parts of his body.

He’s about to move to the other shoulder when he takes a moment to appreciate the lovely creaminess of Jean’s skin. It looks so delectable that Eren can’t resist. He places his hands on either side of Jean’s shoulders, leans in, and lightly kisses Jean’s back. Jean stiffens slightly but doesn’t do anything else. Jean’s skin leaves a tingling sensation on Eren’s lips. He wants to feel it again, so he gives Jean another kiss. Soon he’s bent over Jean, trailing kisses all the way up to his neck. He starts taking little swirling licks every once in a while in order to get more of that delicious tingling sensation in his mouth. 

“What are you doing?” Jean finally rasps out.

“I’m kissing you, knucklehead,” murmurs Eren into Jean’s ear. The ear twitches, which makes Eren grin. “Shut up and enjoy it.”

Jean flips over so he is on his back, shirt kilted up to his nipple line. Eren drinks in the luscious sight of Jean’s torso. Jean is staring up at Eren with hooded eyes.

“I _am_ enjoying it,” Jean says in a smoky voice. “How far do you want this to go? Because if you keep doing what you’re doing, it’s going to go a lot farther than this.”

“Wherever it takes us,” answers Eren, heat flaring up in his body.

“Are you sure?”

Eren squints. Jean is starting to steam around the edges.

“Yeah,” answers Eren huskily. “I’m sure.” To emphasize the point, he leans in and kisses Jean’s lips. He gasps at the frission of pleasure.

Jean pulls a move so fast that Eren can’t follow it, and now Eren is trapped beneath Jean, Jean staring down at him. Jean’s shirt has been discarded in the process.

“Are you very, very, sure?” Flames are dancing across Jean’s skin. 

Jean reaches out a smoking finger and runs it along Eren’s collarbone, up his neck, around his ear. Eren hisses. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s not exactly comfortable either. However, he finds that wherever Jean has touched is now – there is simply no other way to describe it- aflame, burning with desire.

“Well?” Jean prompts.

“J-j-jean,” Eren stutters.

“If you want more, you need to tell me,” says Jean.

Eren licks his lips. “I-I want more." There is a harsh panting sound in the room, and Eren realizes that it’s him, he’s the one who’s panting. He’s never felt like this before. He lunges up. When Eren is pressed up full against Jean’s chest, it feels like his body is on fire.

Jean rises to his feet, easily lifting Eren with him. Eren’s arms are around Jean’s neck, his legs wrapped around Jean’s waist. 

Jean walks into the bedroom. He throws Eren onto the bed and leaps on top of him, pinning Eren’s arms above his head. Eren struggles, but Jean is insanely strong. Eren is helpless beneath him. He is not frightened by this; instead, he is, if possible, even further aroused. Shifting so that both Eren’s arms are held in place with one hand, Jean uses the other to tip Eren’s head to one side. He traces his lips along Eren’s ear, down Eren’s neck. Jean’s tongue crackles against Eren’s skin. It’s as though he’s leaving small fires everywhere he makes contact. Eren finds himself whining in a manner that would be embarrassing if he cared the least bit about anything but Jean’s mouth, Jean’s fingers, Jean’s weight on him. Jean runs a finger down Eren’s shirt. There is a smell of burning, and Eren realizes that Jean has scorched a trail down the middle of his shirt, severing it in two. He looks frantically at his chest, but the skin is intact. Only the shirt edges are smoldering.

“Ah!” he cries out feverishly when Jean’s fingers sweep across the bare skin of his chest. Every nerve ending is alight. Jean’s eyes flare, and Eren is just conscious enough to realize that Jean’s breathing is as ragged as his own.

Later, when Eren comes to himself, he feels like he’s been hit by a truck, flung about by a hurricane. Jean is lying across him, out of breath and slick with sweat. The flames are gone. Eren starts to wrap his arms around Jean, to pull him in close, but Jean pushes him away and rolls as far away on the bed from Eren as he can. He starts snoring almost immediately.

Eren, on the other hand, can’t sleep. His skin is still bristling from Jean’s touch, and he feels strange. He had come here to sweep Jean off his feet so he could get at him, make Jean suffer. And how had it ended? With Eren a quivering mass of jelly, begging Jean for more. What had it meant to Eren? He isn’t sure. He knows that it didn’t feel great to have Jean shove him away like that without a word.

He slips out of the bed and gathers up his clothes. He’ll figure it out later. He debates whether or not to leave a note and decides not to. He’s not sure what he wants to say.

On Monday, Jean calls Eren into his office as soon as he walks into work, even before he has a chance to get to his cubicle. Eren strolls in jauntily, a wide grin on his face. Over the weekend, the more he thought about that night, the more he realized how much fun it had been for him. He wants to see more of Jean-outside-of-work: both the relaxed Jean on the receiving end of a massage, and the crazy, fiery Jean in bed. He’s not operating with an ulterior motive anymore, not trying to get revenge on Jean. He’s even brought Jean some more chocolates from the chocolate shop. He has them in his backpack, a special order- a whole box of the hazelnut ones.

Jean moves until he is standing behind his desk. He’s looking determinedly at a patch of wall to the left of Eren’s face.

“I apologize about the other night. It was wholly unprofessional. You are well within your rights to report me.”

Eren stares. “I’m not going to _report_ you! What are you apologizing about?”

Jean colors, scowling at Eren. “I’m sorry I seduced you.”

Eren gapes at Jean. All the nice, happy, I-might-like-Jean-after-all feelings vanish. Trust that arrogant prick to act like he’s an irresistible sex god.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t seduce me. If anything, _I_ seduced _you_.”

“You did not seduce me, Jaeger.”

“Yes, I did. If you recall, _I_ was the one giving the massage.”

“The massage was pretty good,” Jean says grudgingly. Then he ruins it by adding, “Nevertheless, I should have known that you would be helpless in the face of my demon charm.”

Eren is annoyed beyond belief.

“Demon charm?” he hisses. “You don’t have any charm. You have anti-charm. You give off a constant stream of repulsor rays.”

“That’s not what you were saying Friday night,” Jean says complacently. “In any case, it was obviously a mistake, seeing as how much we hate each other.” At these words, Eren feels a sharp pain in his chest. There’s a roaring in his ears, too, and he misses what Jean says next, something along the lines of, “couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“Yeah, it was _definitely_ a mistake,” growls Eren, over the buzzing in his ears.

“I am glad we are finally in agreement. I’ll talk to Levi as soon as possible. He’ll transfer you to work with someone else.”

“You do that!” says Eren. He is almost shouting.

“I will!” retorts Jean. They are both standing upright, legs apart, chests puffed out. Eren is reminded of old Westerns. He thinks that the two of them are at the stage where they would normally draw their guns. He forces himself to take a breath and relax. No point in getting all worked up for this asshole.

He shifts his backpack. He thinks of the chocolates wrapped up so prettily in silver paper and feels a wild mixture of rage – what a waste! – and, crazily enough, dejection – now he won’t get to see Jean’s face when he unwraps the box. 

“I don’t, by the way,” he says, as he turns to leave.

“You don’t _what_ , Jaeger?” snaps Jean.

“Hate you!” Eren slams the door on his way out.

Jean calls Eren back into his office later that morning. He hands him a wad of papers. 

“Here,” he says stiffly. It’s the draft of a brief, written by Jean, apparently.

“What?” Eren asks, confused. “Why are you giving me this? Weren’t you going to have me transferred?”

“I haven’t… uh… asked Levi yet. Maybe I was a bit… overhasty in my earlier remarks.” Jean is blushing. “It’s been very productive to have you working with me, and I’d hate to throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

Eren frowns as he tries to work out exactly what Jean is saying. Is Eren supposed to be the dirty bathwater in this scenario? Or the baby? Or both?

“Perhaps that wasn't the best choice of words,” Jean adds hastily. He quickly moves on. “As a matter if fact, I need a second pair of eyes to run through all the references. Can you do that? It’s more of a paralegal job, but Keith is out today, and I’ve read it so many times I’m not thinking straight.” Eren looks up eagerly . He hardly ever gets to check references.

“And… uh… Jaeger. I promise nothing like Friday night will happen between us again, okay? So you don’t need to worry." He adds, muttering to himself, "I don’t know what came over me, losing my head like that.”

All the references check out except for one. Eren skims through the decision and lists the reasons why he doesn’t think it supports Jean’s argument. 

Jean reads it while Eren stands there, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“That’s really helpful, Jaeger. I think you’re right. Thanks a lot. Here. Could you check these references as well? Tomorrow?”  


Jean is as good as his word, and he maintains a strictly professional demeanor with Eren. Images from That Night steal into Eren’s mind every now and then, but he does his best to ignore them. He can see that Jean is not going to cross that line again. In a way, it makes things easier. Eren is hard at work job hunting anyway, and as there isn’t really any hope for anything more with Jean (what would _anything mor_ e be with a demon, anyway?) Eren finds that it’s easy enough to dive into his role as Jean’s assistant. He and Jean continue to work well together. Jean gives him increasingly substantive tasks, and Eren does his best to live up to Jean’s standards. He thinks his own skills are sharpening in the process. He finds himself looking forward to coming into work. He’s almost, but not quite, sorry that he’s looking for another job.

He finally lands one. When he gives his notice, Mr. Ackerman, surprisingly, looks disappointed.

“You weren’t expecting me to _stay_ here, sir?” asks Eren incredulously.

“Hope springs eternal,” says Mr. Ackerman in his flat voice. “I had thought that perhaps your new placement might have… enticed you.”

Eren looks at him, puzzled.

“With Jean,” Mr. Ackerman says, as though pointing out the obvious.

Eren blushes and mumbles something indistinct.

Jean works incredibly long hours. No matter how early Eren comes in, or how late Eren leaves, Jean is always there. Eren buys another special order of the hazelnut chocolates.

“I brought you these. For a snack. To keep you going at night when you’re working.”

Jean eagerly grabs the box and opens it. “They’re all the hazelnutty ones!” he says with delighted surprise. A beaming smile breaks over his face. “You’re an angel.” Which Eren thinks is a pretty weird thing for a demon to say. But he likes it.

“Want me to help with that?” asks Eren. It’s 4 o’clock on his last day. Jean hasn’t said anything about it to him, which makes him a bit sad. But he guesses this is probably not the kind of place where they go in for sentimental farewells.

“You can do it next week. Why don’t you get out of here early? Enjoy your weekend.”

“Today’s my last day,” he says. “Didn’t Mr. Ackerman tell you?”

Something spasms across Jean’s face, too quickly for Eren to catch it. “Oh,” he says blankly. He suddenly looks small, deflated, next to the mountain of paper stacked on his desk. 

Eren stands for a moment longer, but Jean doesn’t say anything else.

“Thanks for… uh.. everything,” Eren says stupidly. “And… uh.. congratulations in advance on completing your jail sentence. Since I won’t be here on your actual last day.”

Jean visibly gathers himself together. It as though he’s putting on a suit. His face smooths over. He straightens his back. He speaks in an artificially bright tone of voice. “Thank you, Jaeger. You did great work here. You have a bright future ahead of you.”

“I learned a lot. From you, I mean.”

Jean snorts. “I didn’t teach you anything.”

“You taught by example.”

Jean shrugs and doesn’t reply.

“Well… uh… so long,” says Eren. There isn’t anything else to say.

He’s halfway out the door when Jean calls out, “Jaeger?“

“Yes?” Eren turns back eagerly. His heart is beating rather fast. Since he’s now leaving this job, could Jean possibly want to try to reconnect in that other way?

There is a pause. “Never mind. Good luck to you.”

“To you, too, Jean,” says Eren. He means it.

Eren finishes submitting the last of his grad school applications earlier than he expects. He has taken a whole week off his job to get them done, so now he has a few extra days of freedom. It’s December 19th and he has some holiday shopping to do. All of a sudden, the significance of the date dawns on him. Tomorrow is Jean’s last day of prison. He’s been thinking about Jean a lot lately. About how annoyingly uptight he is. But also about relaxed Jean, on the couch in his slouchy clothes; Jean saying “I don’t have time for friends”; hardworking Jean, even though he detests his job; flaming sex god Jean (the memory of That Night always gives Eren a feeling of shivery longing); the words “You’re an angel” slipping easily out of an unguarded Jean’s mouth.

Why shouldn’t Jean have at least a small celebration in honor of the end of his incarceration? That’s what friends would organize. But Jean doesn’t have any friends. Before Eren lets himself think too much about it, he gets to work. He doesn’t really have much to do tomorrow, so what’s the big deal?

He staples together a few cut-up, folded sheets of paper to make a small book.

The cover reads, “ _Fun with Eren!_ Coupons”

The first page has the “GET OUT OF JAIL FREE!” card from Monopoly taped to it. Eren is proud of this. He imagines Jean grinning when he sees it. The next page offers, of course, A Trip to the Chocolate Shop Together. Eren does his best to draw a teardrop-shaped chocolate on the page, although it looks an awful lot like a random squiggle. The next is A Visit to the Art Museum. He glues a picture of Rodin’s The Gates of Hell on this page because he thinks demon Jean will appreciate it. A Night of Board Games follows. He takes a quick trip to the local toy store and buys Jean a couple of board games to go with the coupon, because he thinks it is highly unlikely that any board games are hidden away in Jean’s cupboards. Ice skating is the fourth. Eren figures this will be a novel experience for a demon. Eren leaves a few blank pages, in case he gets more ideas later. He draws two little stick figures on each page; the Jean stick figure has flames rising off of it. Both of the faces have huge, happy smiles, because, well, artistic license and all.

He feels a little uncomfortable walking uninvited into Jean’s apartment. It _is_ breaking and entering; or, at least entering, there isn’t any genuine breaking involved. But he tells himself that if Jean didn’t want unexpected visitors, he should have kept his apartment locked.

He props up the sign he made, _Congratulations Jean!_ , against the coffee table. It looks small in the relatively empty room, but at this point it’s too late to change it. He blows up a few of the balloons he brought. The cake, which now has a sunken valley in the middle of it, is on display on the kitchen table. He jams the one drooping candle a little further into the cake to prevent it from toppling over completely.

He stacks the board games on the coffee table. He places the little book on top of them, in the place of honor.

Surveying his handiwork, Eren is pleased with the result. It all looks quite festive, just as a release-from-prison party should. It’s 7:30, and Jean will hopefully walk in at any moment.

By 9:30, Jean still hasn’t shown up. All the celebratory feeling has long since evaporated. Eren is tired and antsy. He wonders if he should leave. Maybe Jean has already returned to whatever Demon Spirit world he came from? 

He’s put in all that effort, though. He decides to stay; he’ll give it another half hour. He ends up falling asleep on the couch.

He’s woken up some time later by a loud, “What the hell?” Jean is standing over the couch, his tie in his hand, his shirt half unbuttoned. His hair is wet, and there is a dripping umbrella in the corner. It must be raining fairly heavily. More importantly, Jean looks seriously annoyed.

_Shit_ , Jean doesn’t like it. Of course he doesn’t like it. Eren looks around at the corny sign, the stupid board games, his ridiculous little book. He slams his hand down on top of the book. Jean, as quick on the uptake as usual, grabs hold of Eren’s arm. There is a short struggle. Of course, Jean wins. He yanks the book out of Eren’s hand, miraculously without tearing it.

Eren puts his head in his hands. What the fuck was he thinking? He’s such an idiot. Why would Jean be interested in cake or board games? Or spending any time at all with Eren? If he was, he would have made some effort to keep in touch. At the very least, he would have asked for Eren’s number. He peeks through his fingers at Jean. Jean is frowning, his brow furrowed. Eren shuts his eyes against the sight and tries to disappear into the couch. A few minutes later, he steals another glance. How can Jean still be reading that book? It’s only 5 pages long! Dammit, now he’s grimacing! Eren stops trying to sink into the couch and instead concentrates on inching slowly away from Jean. His intent is to slip out of the apartment while Jean is still reading. He thinks Jean is so mesmerized with horror by that idiotic little book that he won’t even notice. He’s made it about a foot away from Jean when Jean’s hand snakes out and grabs Eren’s arm. He’s not hurting Eren, but it’s a grip that Eren cannot escape from.

Eren can’t look anymore, but he hears what sounds like Jean swallowing. Oh no! He must be seriously pissed off. Eren is definitely going to die tonight. Although he wonders at the back of his mind what’s really so bad about cake and a few gifts?

“Jaeger,” Jean croaks roughly. “ _Eren.”_ Eren braces for the storm. Instead, Jean throws his arm around Eren, pulling him into a tight hug. It’s awkward and uncomfortable to be hugged so fiercely while sitting on a couch.

“Thank you,” he sniffs into Eren’s ear. Eren is astonished. Does this mean Jean liked it? Is Jean sniffling with _happy_ feelings? It appears so.

Eren tentatively settles his arms around Jean’s back, which feels solid and warm and very human. He rests his head on Jean’s shoulder and says, quietly, “I wanted to help celebrate your freedom, yeah?”

“Yeah,” whispers Jean.

When they separate, Jean turns his head away. Eren pretends he doesn’t notice that Jean is wiping his eyes. After what he hopes is enough time for Jean to regain his dignity, Eren grabs Jean’s arm and drags him into the kitchen.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Eren begins. He is not being modest; he is merely stating the obvious. He had done his best with the little frosting tubes Mikasa keeps in the kitchen, but it had all collapsed on the ride over and now looks like nothing so much as a volcano that has blown its top, exploding bits of lava frosting all over the sunken, ashy-looking cake. “But this is the cake we always made for everyone’s birthday. I promise you that it tastes better than it looks.”

“I hope so,” Jean murmurs, eyeing the cake dubiously.

Eren forgot matches, so Jean lights the candle. He’s about to blow it out when Eren says, “Did you make a wish?”

“What?” asks Jean.

“A wish,” says Eren. “Before you blow out the candle.” This is practically a birthday party, after all. In honor of the birth of Jean’s freedom.

“Oh,” says Jean. “Okay. I wish that-“

“No!” Eren stops him urgently. “You can’t say it out loud! Don’t you know anything? It has a to be a _secret_ wish, or it won’t come true.”

Jean’s brow furrows for a moment in concentration. His eyes flicker briefly to Eren’s face. He blows out the candle in a single breath. Eren claps.

“You made this yourself? You’re right! It’s really good!” Jean says with surprise as he gobbles his piece down. “I love chocolate,” he adds, as though confessing a secret.

“I know that, you idiot,” says Eren, smiling happily. He is ridiculously pleased that Jean likes the cake.

Jean has a silly grin on his face that Eren has never seen before. Eren decides that this is how Jean must have looked as a kid, if demons are ever kids, that is.

Jean insists they play one board game right away. It’s a bit weird, with only the two of them. Plus, Jean chooses _Battle Sheep_ , which Eren finds strange, because the pictures of the sheep on the chips are really cute, and that doesn’t seem like Jean’s kind of thing _at all._ Eren only brought it because, even though it’s a stupid game, it’s still one of their favorites to play at home, and he felt a need to share this bit of himself with Jean. Eren wins the first round handily. However, Jean catches on quickly, and he wins the second round. Eren falls asleep in the middle of the third.

He wakes up to Jean shaking him lightly and asking, “Do you want to crash here tonight?”

Eren nods blearily. The thought of trekking home at this hour in the rain is extremely unpleasant. He starts to lift his feet up onto the couch, muttering, “Is here okay? Do you have an extra blanket?”

In answer, Jean scoops Eren up and carries him to the bed. Eren feels his pants sliding off and his arms being gently liberated from his shirt. The blankets are tucked under his chin. He snuggles into the wonderfully cozy bed.

Eren wakes up briefly later on to the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Jean is standing in pajama bottoms in front of his nightstand. The skin of his upper body seems to shine in the halo of light. He is running his fingers over the cover of Eren’s little book like it’s something infinitely precious. He bends down to place it carefully in the drawer of his nightstand. He flips the light out. Eren feels him climbing into bed.

Remembering the last time, Eren stays on his side of the bed. Just as he’s falling back asleep, he feels Jean’s fingers brush up against his own.

“Hey,” Eren says sleepily.

“Hey,” Jean replies.

There’s a slight pause, then Jean scoots over. Eren feels Jean’s arm wrap around underneath him, pulling him into Jean's side. “Thanks for the party.”

“Congratulations on getting out of prison,” murmurs Eren. Jean’s skin is warm and smooth, not prickly at all now. He smells faintly of woodsmoke. 

Eren tips his head up blindly and adds, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” says Jean. He bends down and kisses Eren gently on the mouth. Eren settles comfortably against Jean. He drifts off to the sound of Jean’s heartbeat against his ear (it turns out demons _do_ have hearts, after all) and the feel of Jean’s fingers in his hair. He’s not sure if he’s still awake or if he’s dreaming when he hears Jean’s voice murmur, “Angel of mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading ;-)  
> please let me know if any law details are off (or anything else, really), idk much about that stuff


End file.
